


Dysphoria

by EsculentEvil



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Bombs, Budding Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Genderqueer Character, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Romance, Tears, Trans Character, personal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-17 12:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16974249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: WARNING: This work contains a FTM!Joker!!!! Don’t like this: Don’t read this!Gender dysphoria is, medically speaking, "the condition of feeling one's emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one's biological sex" (Concise Oxford English Dictionary).The Joker is Transgender; Batman does not care: "this man—woman—person is still The Joker."Originally posted to my Tumblr @esculentevil





	1. Finding [out] Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> The Joker is menstruating and suffering dysphoria as a result; Batman helps him through it.
> 
> Note: This condition, technically, also applies to those that do not identify as male or female (for example: agendered people like me). Thank you.

Gotham is a disaster.

There’s a wrecking ball in the garden, the parks are all swamps, the animals of the city’s zoo have all been released upon its unsuspecting citizens, and there’s a bomb threat wailing in the distance under the glare of Gordon’s Bat-Signal.

There’s crazed laughter in the air.

And also the Batman.

* * *

The Joker is a shivering mess when the Bat finds him.

He’s soaked to the bone with water from one of the parks’ fountains and blood. His hair is in a chaotic state similar to that of his wild and wide and wet eyes. Gloves caked in dirt and debris from the garden twitch along trigger-lined thighs.

There’s even a gun ( _Why? You have bombs._ ).

Batman approaches with caution. He notes that most of the blood is on Joker’s lower half and wonders if he’s wounded ( _He usually has blood spatter on his torso if he’s been shooting..._ ). There’re no tears in his clothing, though.

There’re tears on his face, though.

Batman has to blink and stare a bit to make sure he’s really seeing them. They don’t go away, though, even after a minute. Instead, they become enraged.

Joker has finally noticed him.

And now there’s a gun in his face.

* * *

“I’m here, Joker; what do you want.”  


Batman falls into their ugly routine easily; Joker, however, does not.

“ **Wha _t_** do I **wan** _t_?” his voice is grim and guttural and grotesquely frail.  


And then he’s sobbing:“I want out of me!”

* * *

The gun is surprisingly easy to deal with; less easy is Joker, himself.

He’s sobbing, still, as his weapon is tossed away and looking, frantically, everywhere. He’s shaking with his sobs and gasping for breath, too.

There’s something desperate about him instead of deranged.

Batman studies him carefully, trying to understand what all of this means. Unfortunately, that frail cry from earlier doesn’t make any sense to him.

“I don’t understand how that can be done,” he confesses quietly.  


Joker’s breath hitches, wracking his whole body. Then, he’s laughing, “I know, Batsy.” He sniffs and wipes at his eyes, hands shaky like the rest of him.

Batman doesn’t know what to do, “Explain it to me.”

He almost regrets asking that.

* * *

It takes a while.

During that time, Batman gets the detonators off the villainous clown and contacts Gordon so he knows the bombs are relatively safe. By the time he’s done, he’s also confirmed that—somehow—the Joker is **bleeding** from **there**.

He’s really dreading that conversation.

Especially since he ends up having it.

* * *

“Harley says it’s called _dysphoria_.”  


Batman frowns as he stands, carefully, beside the shaking clown. “An uneased state of mind or condition of being greatly dissatisfied with your life?” he asks.

He frowns when Joker shakes his head with a bitter smile.

“I’m menstruating.”

* * *

( _Breathe_.)

He has to remind himself to do that as he stares, agape, at the man—woman—before him. Joker grins back, so bitter it’s almost black, and laughs, “I hate it.”

Batman slowly blinks and swallows the bile that his throat had been building.

( _Is it possible to feel gender dysphoria when it’s not **you** that’s the subject?_) He’ll have to ask Alfred this later. For now, he pushes the queasy feeling aside and firmly reminds himself that this man—woman— **person** is still **The Joker**.

“So you decided to take it out on the city.”  


Joker blinks up at him. There’s something in his expression—something yearning and hopeful and vulnerable—that brings that queasiness back.

Joker smiles softly, “I was hoping...”

Batman frowns. When the silence stretches, he prods, “For?”

The clown looks lost, eyes glassy and grin empty.

Then: “For someone to come and distract me... from me.”

* * *

The Bat isn’t sure he understands.

He still doesn’t know what that line meant: _I want out of me_.

He isn’t even sure he gets what the word distraction is supposed to mean.

But... he’s pretty sure he knows the Joker.

* * *

The cape was unexpected.

Joker really thought he’d get a punch in the face or told he needs to be cuffed. He didn’t expect to be bundled up in his batty vigilante’s rich, black cloth.

The sound he makes is not a whimper (Seriously.) but he does want to cry.

Batman isn’t smiling when he looks up but his frown isn’t deep, either. He’s firm, “When I was young, my mother told me that I shouldn’t stay in the light if I don’t like something I see. I should go into the dark where I loose track of what’s around me. There, even if I could not find solace, solace would find me.”

There is silence.

And in it: a smile: “You found me.”

* * *

He can’t see it anymore.

He can feel it all there, but he can’t **see**.

His body isn’t deformed or wrong.

He’s just him wrapped up in his Batsy.


	2. Sore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bats takes care of a sore Joker.

[Batman scowls as he swings his fist into thin air, the Joker’s air thin body gone. He’s dodged the Bat’s punch like he normally never does and pulls back too far.]

**Batman** : [frustrated] Where are you going?

**Joker** : [wry grin] Over here.

[The Joker spreads his arms, theatrical as always, but Bats just sees his wince.]

**Joker** : [trying to be flippant] It’s... warmer here.

[Batman frowns, knowing that’s just sod. He studies the villain before him, thinks of the expression he almost hid, the uncharacteristic reluctance to be touched, the blatant lie in his reasoning, and the fact that they’re here because... Wait...]

**Batman** : [as the pieces fall into place] Are you... in pain?

**Joker** : [bristles and scowls] I don’t FEEL pain.

**Batman** : [nods slowly] ... But you do get sore.

[Joker sneers and steps a little further away from him. Batman, aware following after him will only spook him ( _I really hate when he’s **wary**._), stays where he is.]

**Batman** : [internally debating] Is that what the heat packs are for?

**Joker** : [pouting] I don’t need you babysitting; I get enough of that from Harley.

**Batman** : [ ~~fights urge to smile~~  remains calm] I meant that I have those at home.

**Joker** : [blinks; straightens; looks hopeful] ... Home... as in the Batcave?

**Batman** : [nods calmly] Return the heat pads and I’ll let you borrow mine.

**Joker** : [slowly grinning very wide] In the Batcave.

**Batman** : [is totally not amused; is not smiling either; nods]

**Joker** : [squeals and tosses the heat packs back] To the Batcave!

* * *

 

[Inside the Batcave]

**Joker** : [skipping around, pressing his face to costume displays and pressing all the colorful buttons he can find; giggling and oooing and aaaing at everything]

**Batman** : [sighing to himself; sending Alfred an apologetic glance because he has to clean all those glass cases now; watching Joker closely and protectively; VERY glad he long ago decided that only innocuous buttons can be colored]

**Nightwing, over com** : [bemused] I thought you said he was SORE?

**Red Hood, over com** : [angry] Doesn’t look OR sound it to me.

**Red Robin, over com** : [matter-of-fact] Actually, gentle movements and non-strenuous activities are excellent remedies for soreness. Stretching, too.

**Oracle, over com** : Yea; plus that helps strengthen the muscles that bruised.

**Robin, over com** : You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?

**Batman** : [hissing] Behave. [after a considerate pause] ALL of you. [at the sound of various states of apologetic silence] I’m keeping him here for as long as I can. You’re all to keep Gotham safe while I do. Understand?

**Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Oracle, Robin, all over com** : Yes.

**Batman** : Good.

[The lead vigilante closes off the connection and lets his group head out before turning to gaze at his villain with equal parts amusement and contemplation.]

**Joker** : [twirls around and catches Batman staring; grins] Like what you see~?

**Batman** : [ignoring the flirtation] How do you feel?

**Joker** : [giggles with amused exasperation; rolls eyes] Fine, fine. Good, even.

[Batman nods and moves carefully to the heat packs Alfred brought down with him; he ensures none of his actions are sudden and keeps his hands in view.]

**Joker** : [tapping a nervous rhythm on the panel of an old Batsuit (A favorite~); tracking all the Bat’s movements] So, uh... Do I lay down in the Batmobile or...?

**Batman** : [after confirming that Alfred has gone back upstairs, for the sake of  ~~privacy~~  safety] No. [calmly settles into his large, comfortable computer chair; with one hand, he holds the heat pads; with the other, he beckons the Joker]

**Joker** : [stares at that hand for several seconds; looks strangely conflicted; glances between that hand and the other and Batman’s calm face; caves]

[Joker’s heels click and echo as he walks, ricocheting throughout Batman’s home. When he’s standing before the man in question, he reaches out and lets his purple-clad hand slide into a Kevlar-encased one. The Batman reels him in.]

**Batman** : [settling the clown in his lap] Will you feel it through your clothes?

**Joker** : [trying not to blush] Probably not... [steels himself, chuckles lightly, and then looks challengingly up at the Bat] Think you can help a guy out~?

[Knowing well that Joker doesn’t actually need help removing his own clothes, Batman nods and sets the heat packs back down on the provided heating rack. Then, with deft fingers, he unbuttons and removes the criminal mastermind’s jacket, vest, and shirt. He makes no comment towards the tight-fitting tang-top.]

**Joker** : [slowly relaxing against the Bat] You could have left the shirt on.

**Batman** : [nods absently] I could have. [while reaching for the heat pads again] But that would have complicated things. [gently presses a pack to Joker’s pelvis]

**Joker** : [sighing out some left over tension] Hm... That so? What things, exactly?

**Batman** : Massages to the lower back and torso often help in cases like this.

**Joker** : [gazing up at the Bat in shock] What? [glances around then stares again] You mean... I get to be in your cave, sit in your lap, AND I get a massage???

**Batman** : [shifting the heat pad a little to affect a different muscle group] Yes.

**Joker** : [stares] ... [breathes out, awed] Wow... [settles against the Bat again] ... Do I get to sleep in your bed, too?

**Batman** : [snorts] Nice try. Guest bed for you.

**Joker** : [pouts; sulks]

**Batman** : [noticing; smiles slightly] Maybe next time.

**Joker** : [perks up] Yea?

**Batman** : [shifts the pack again; begins rubbing small circles into Joker’s lumbar] Yea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read this far: thank you for putting up with my vicarious venting. ♦♦♦

**Author's Note:**

> I’m agender but, before that, I was transgender. During puberty, my body was a nightmare to me; the changes it underwent that were _normal_ , everyone assured me, made me “unhappy” and I was told that was _normal_ , too, so I sucked it up like I was told to and now I still feel whiny to this day when this unhappiness comes upon me. I don’t see myself as gendered anymore and the reminders provided to me by my body (and people) are jarring and make me greatly uneasy. However: Joker has been a wonderful confidant and an immense comfort to me ever since I entered this fandom in November of 2017 and he continues to be both to this day. Through him (and this fandom) I’ve met beautiful people that experience similar things to me and make me feel like I’m not whiny or just making things into a big deal; they support me and make me feel less lonely and they give me courage to explore and share these things with other fans here. So... I know I didn’t explain this—what and how I feel—well but... I’ll figure it out one day and, hopefully, you all (and those beautiful people) will be willing to read it and face this with me.


End file.
